Paperback Romance Hero
by Darlin
Summary: Can two co-workers find love? After all, love is what everyone wants whether they want to admit it or not, right? So why does fear stop someone from taking that next step? And what does it matter the color of one's skin? Love is love and shouldn't that be all we need? AU RoLo.


**Paperback Romance Hero**

 **by Darlin**

Tuesday morning after Christmas was as dreary as any Monday morning for Ororo Munroe. But Mondays were always a disappointment after her usual boring weekends of determinedly forgetting the equally boring week that was and was yet to come. Unfortunately, the holiday weekend hadn't been much different. Christmas had been pleasant enough spent with her best friend Jean's family along with plenty of wine. The day after, Monday and the official paid holiday, had been okay. Even with her slight hangover she and Jean had met at the movies. After that she'd been undone.

"We should find a good man next year," Jean said after the movie was over, the theater still dark, credits rolling, and the memory of the attentive, adoring, tall, handsome lover that had just been on screen still fresh in their minds.

They'd giggled quietly, safe in the dark, then assured each other as they hit the brightly lit corridor that they didn't need a man. But old longings that had been ignored for so long had been unexpectedly brought to the fore, the movie having dredged up those old desires with the unexpected movie romance. Ororo wished she'd researched the movie beforehand but hindsight was pointless by then and too late to stop the deep longing that was welling up inside her.

Jean had said, "But sometimes I'd like to have someone to go out to dinner with. Hon, I wouldn't even care if he was blue or green or short and hairy like that little guy at work you think doesn't like you, although I know he has to with everything you've told me!" And she'd laughed. That was Jean, effusive, wistful, honest.

Ororo wondered why finding love had to be so hard. Since Jean's husband Scott had died a few years ago Ororo felt for her but Jean didn't know what she was talking about. And she didn't have to face that handsome co-worker across from her five days a week! She wondered what it must be like to be a widow. She wondered what it would be like being older and alone, no family in her case, no man in both their cases. She wasn't getting any younger, had no children, almost too old to really want children any more – no man. Black or white. That was her cubicle mate's problem – he was white and nothing like her and probably couldn't understand her or people like her. Of course, she felt her thoughts were borderline racist or ignorant at best but she'd never dated a white guy before and she didn't expect she ever would. Even if she kind of thought Jean might be right.

Later that evening she'd gone back to see the exact same movie again. Masochistically. Again, the wistfulness of romance depicted on screen called to her, no matter how unreal she knew it was. Did any man care and love with such depth? Did any man look as good, behave so perfectly? Like surreal paperback romance heroes, so tempting to lose oneself in the make believe, dreamy realm of blissful, fairy tale love. Was any of that really possible?

She wanted it to be. She knew better but she was so lonely, so empty. Divorced for a few years, no boyfriend since then, she wanted life to be like the movies or a romance novel. She needed to believe a man could look at her with love in his eyes so strongly that she would shake all over or actually get goosebumps. She had to believe there was someone out there for her, someone who would be devoted to her. And as much as she liked to hold hands he wouldn't have to at all and he wouldn't have to give public displays of affection or even stay home with her all the time. He could go out with his friends as much as he wanted, within reason, just as long as he loved her and was faithful and always came back to her. That's all she wanted . . . love.

All humans were tied together because everyone wanted to be loved. They needed love. Without love people became twisted – wrong somehow. Studies had been done on that with poor babies in orphanages with no love, no touch. And some serial killers, she thought, recalling the last book she'd read. She didn't want to end up twisted and bitter, always the bridesmaid with nothing but regrets. And yet nothing seemed to ever change.

After the holiday, just as always, her life was devoid of anything much and certainly not love. There was nothing to look forward to. She knew the week would be a repeat of every other week. After her boring day at work she'd go home, stay put, sitting in front of the television like a zombie for hours, eating the pizza she'd tipped the pizza delivery guy five dollars for, and scarfing down a slice or two of the extra sweet potato pie she'd made for herself when she'd made one for the office party. And she wouldn't even care about extra pounds because a man should like her for who she was and, well, there was no man. Saddest of all, her cell phone would remain silent unless Jean wanted to see a movie or go out to lunch or coffee.

Going back to work Tuesday should have been a relief from her drab life but she hated her job, hated that she hadn't tried for that meteorologist job right after college instead of settling for an easy job with the city. She was up for a supervisor position that had just opened in her department but what was that when the same day after day routine wouldn't change except for more responsibility? Her job was wearisome and any promotion would be just as wearisome. There wasn't any way she could deny it.

No one at work paid much attention to her aside from work matters, that is except for the guy who sat across from her in his equally small cubicle, the man Jean had joked about. His name was Logan, Logan Howlett, and he hovered too much, always asking questions, always seeking her advice. She knew he'd applied for the same supervisor job because he'd been joking about it. He was that confident. He was so confident that he didn't even pretend to kowtow to Charles, their boss, whom he often seemed to view with clear disdain. He didn't let anything or anyone bother him or get in his way. She suspected Charles respected Logan's confident individuality and because of that ignored his bluntness.

Logan was full of bold confidence, not that she lacked confidence, but he was so cocky. He seemed so different from her. She was definitely quieter than him. And he was a bit shorter than her. She felt it odd that he paid so much attention to someone like her. She often thought he was mocking her, the tall girl with the odd name, weird looking white hair with her natural blue eyes combined with her chocolate brown skin. She was the opinionated yet quiet one who was whispered about in meetings as she sat staring straight ahead hoping no one would sit next to her and bore her even further. She loathed her job and the gossipy women. Work was almost a prison sentence. Except for Logan. He would always sit with her and pass silly notes about Charles' chrome dome or co-worker's boring questions and comments. She tried to ignore him and mostly succeeded but he was funny and good company and he seemed to be the only one who wanted to sit by her. She didn't know her coworkers felt he was the only one allowed to sit by her as they'd been warned off by her stern looks whenever they attempted the feat.

But Logan didn't bore her. He was a great listener too although she didn't like to talk about herself that much. He was almost movie actor perfect. And as luck would have it there he was, the first person she'd actually have to speak to that morning. She couldn't avoid him as she had others by coming in super early and going up the stairs instead of taking the elevator.

"Hey, Ro, have a good Christmas?" Logan asked, genuinely interested even though he had long learned she hated the usual good morning niceties.

"How was yours, did you go to Luke's?" she asked, turning the question back on him, smiling before looking away and pulling her chair out from her desk. Seeing him always made her feel funny inside.

"Yeah. So, did you go to your friend's house – Jean, right?" he queried as he got up and wandered over to her cubicle.

He knew too much about her she thought as she pursed her lips, wishing he'd go back to whatever it was he'd been working on. But he was up and hovering over her almost puppy like.

"I thought you said her sister and her parents were coming down?" he persisted.

Because he was nosy, she thought as she watched him fidgeting with the Cary Grant paperweight that she kept on her desk.

"All Luke's kid did was text on her phone. She texted all while we were eating too, can you believe that? Anyway, she did till his wife – Jessica – came down on her and you know, she was texting when I left, didn't even look up when they told her to say bye! 'See ya next time uncle Logan,' she said is all – didn't look up once, I coulda been having a heart attack!"

Ororo chuckled. She looked so serene just then. It made him grin with pleasure before continuing his story.

"But at least she didn't get into trouble like she used to when she was a little kid. You know, I thought it was kinda surreal kind of. But it's a different world nowadays, kid's're attached to their cells, couldn't live without 'em, and apparently parents don't give a . . . well, they don't seem ta care or some of 'em are just as attached to that Facebook stuff I guess. Now if I had a kid things would be different!"

She smiled at his last comment and brushed at her hair as she waited for her computer to boot up. Things would be different if she had a child too. Encouraged by her smile, even though all she did was watch her computer and nod a bit, he continued talking, too much he knew he'd realize later, just as he always realized too late.

"So, Jess didn't try cooking anything bizarre this time, no new recipes so the food was good. She did make that crappy macaroni salad Luke likes an' I hate. But I just passed. Don't think she noticed or cared which was good. I don't wanna hurt her feelings or anything," he rattled on, watching her watching her computer.

Her hair was falling into her face and she kept brushing it aside. He never wondered why she didn't fix it, instead he just thought she looked so girlish and pretty. And it made him feel . . . young and good somehow. She was so fresh and decent, almost like she was untainted by the world and work with gossips and power struggles and problems. Talking to her made his day. And it was even better when she responded, which she wasn't now. In fact, as he stopped talking she quickly, determinedly started her day, keying in her password then rising slightly to retrieve papers from her in basket. The city always talked about going paperless but they still weren't there yet.

"You remind me of her a little, you know, Ororo – Jessica I mean. I don't mean you two look alike or anything but, well, she always listens an' she's no nonsense. She's a good woman."

Ororo shifted uncomfortably in her seat, flashed a nervous smile at him then turned back to her computer, feeling her usual awkwardness from his usual persistent attention.

"Did you do anything else?" he asked, putting Cary Grant down and plopping himself onto the edge of her desk, making himself comfortable.

"Same ol' same ol'," she murmured, trying to not feel nervous with him so close. "You – you smell nice – that new soap you told me about?" She changed the subject to one she'd asked about last Friday.

And as he droned on about soap and her perfume all she could register was his closeness, how if she reached out her hand just an inch she could touch him, touch another human being and not feel so alone. He talked a lot but he was such a good listener and sweet and nice smelling and ruggedly handsome. He was nearly perfect, too good to be true, a Fairy Tale Love, she thought wryly, wondering what Jean would make of it all if she could see them like this.

"Same ol' same ol'," she found herself saying automatically when she realized he was waiting for a reply. She was pretty sure he'd asked if she had any plans for the week. She smiled at him, hoping that he would let it go as he always did.

He chuckled. She always said same ol' same ol' and smiled that serene smile she had. He figured it was her way of politely putting an end to him ever asking her out. He always chuckled when she said it though he always felt a heaviness in the pit of his stomach, like now. Still, they had a kind of routine he imagined old married couples might have. He looked forward to it five days a week and missed it over his long, boring weekends hanging out with his equally boring friends.

"I'm glad you had a good time with your friends," Ororo added, knowing that he had no family. She'd wanted to invite him to Jean's but had decided against it even though she'd felt sorry for him.

"Yeah, Luke an' Jess are good people. You'd like them. One day maybe . . ."

"I'm sorry, Logan but I have a lot of work to get caught up on what with the holiday weekend and all." There was no hint of sorrow in her voice which was low, slightly husky, and beguiling like a siren calling to him.

Logan's sigh turned into a deep inhale. He breathed in the scent she wore, a light natural perfume he was addicted to. And then he heard her sigh heavily and he stood immediately, feeling foolish for intruding. She didn't notice, and he slowly walked back to his desk thinking, yet another strike out, and wondering why he kept trying if he couldn't find the balls to follow through.

Another co-worker, passed by as he dropped into his seat feeling and looking totally dejected. The pretty, bleached blonde with exceptionally large breast in a too revealing and inappropriate V-neck glanced at him. He saw her make a point of looking at Ororo then she looked back at him, making a show of rolling her eyes. Logan gave her a look that he hoped would make her never look at him or Ororo again and she glared at him and walked away. He looked back at Ororo who was lost in her work. She never seemed to see anyone in the office, not the blonde, not him, not any of the girls that loved to visit each other's cubicles and gossip on breaks and none of the guys there, which he was thankful for. When she came to work she actually worked, something he admired about her as she helped him with the rotating co-ops who didn't always understand the dynamics of work, that, outside of breaks and lunch, work wasn't optional.

At the end of the day Ororo had a headache. She almost always did. She took an aspirin, good for the heart, and drank a cup of cranberry juice which she brought from home in a pint Mason jar, good for the environment and equally good for her. Logan watched her from across the aisle. He didn't know she was wishing the juice was a glass of wine. All he knew was that her routine was pretty predictable. He liked that about her. She wasn't flighty like some of the women there, didn't gossip, and was probably one of the smartest people in their department. And she was beautiful. What got him was that she didn't even seem aware of it or at least she didn't act as if she were.

When she got up suddenly he was roused from his reverie and leapt out of his seat which spun around a bit then toppled over causing him to nearly lose his balance. He'd only been doing the same move ever since he'd worked up the nerve to ask her out a few months ago. He just hadn't been able to get up, walk, think and ask her out all at once. But his plan was always the same despite his lack of coordination and lack of success.

"Are you okay, Logan?" she asked, pausing as she watched him pick the chair up.

"Huh? Uh, yeah, yeah."

"Good night."

Finally righting his chair and shoving it under his desk he looked up and saw her nearly flying to the exit. He started to run after her but quickly saw how desperate that would make him look. Even though he was desperate. He cursed under his breath. If he hadn't been thinking about Ororo so much he would've seen her put the cover on her computer and pick up her bag, would've been ready to . . . well, yes, ready to pounce, to walk her to the door, go with her down the steps, chatting her up with his witty, intelligent, meaningful conversation. He grunted at that thought. Too much thinking, not enough action.

Really, why she would be interested in him he couldn't find an answer to. They got along great, had similar interests in nature and music, movies, and politics. But she was a goddess and he was just a short lug. And yet every day, five days a week, when she got up to go home he would also get up, pretending to be leaving at the same time, nothing more than that, merely hoping to catch her attention, hoping to walk her to the stairs, she never used the elevator, walk her to her car and then maybe he'd be able to get her to really look at him, to finally see how much he cared about her.

And then he'd look into her bewitching, sky blue eyes and take some of that seriousness away, make her smile that big, breathtakingly, beautiful smile like she'd given him today when he was pretty sure she'd spaced out for a moment, right when he'd felt he was going to tell her that same ol' same ol' sounded boring and why didn't they go see a movie together. Maybe. Maybe she might even say yes when he finally worked up the nerve to ask her. One day. If not in the office, maybe as they walked out together. Unfortunately, he'd tripped down the steps hurrying after her last week and Emma had joined them another day and the week before Charles had kept him a few times. Something always seemed to prevent him from accomplishing his mission. Most often it was his own tongue, tied and useless.

"Doing anything later?" Logan called, trying to look cool despite the chair debacle.

"Have a good night," Ororo said, waving just before the door closed behind her.

He again thought about running after her as he shoved his arms into his coat but then he remembered he'd look as desperate as he felt. The clock on the wall showed it was five o'clock on the dot, the exact time she always left so why couldn't he just be ready in a calm manner, already standing, backpack in hand, coat and cowboy hat on? Why did it have to be so hard with her, he wondered? He was never flustered around other women like he was with her.

He thought of how she'd looked back briefly before she'd shut the stairwell door behind her. Was that an invitation maybe? But then why was she sprinting down the stairs? She always walked fast, almost like she was flying. He imagined she would be a good workout partner. She ate healthy, walked fast. But he wouldn't know if she was or not because he hadn't been able to ask her out then or any other time. It had been two months now that he'd really put effort into his plan, loitering around, weighing each word he would say to her, imagining every possible response from her. Sometimes he acted the scenes out in his bedroom while standing in front of the mirror over his dresser. But he was confident then and in his imagination, she was entirely overcome by his bold, confident manner – there in his mirror.

Love. He yearned for it. Almost desperately. Married briefly then widowed for so many years he didn't like to think how long, dated real beauties off and on since then but he'd never met the right one. None of them had compared to his wife Mariko, none of them had struck that spark within him like in the fairy tale stories everyone grew up with. None of them except Ororo. He knew a fairy tale love was possible. He'd had it once no matter how brief. And weren't Luke and Jessica with their kid, who ignored everything but her cell, proof?

He'd never admit it to another dude to save his live and he knew most women probably didn't think men yearned for love like that but that wasn't true at all. Every time he went to the movies and saw couples sitting beside each other, he felt a small pang in his chest. And when he saw couples holding hands as they walked along he wished he had someone he could hold hands with, someone to hold onto, to hold on to him. He felt love was so close, so possible, but he couldn't find the courage to follow through. And that was another thing women didn't understand – it was scary as hell asking a woman out. One little rejection could wound a man to the core!

Something about Ororo made him feel that she was the one. But if she said no would he mess up their friendship? It meant too much to him to risk without a sure-fire plan. She'd be his ideal friend if they could hang out. She was his ideal woman period. She wasn't some skinny little thing but full figured and she kept herself in shape and was health conscious. And man, she could cook too! From that delicious sweet potato pie she'd brought for the Christmas party, the homemade dip for the last Fourth of July party, that tuna casserole that rocked for his birthday!

He'd asked her once what she was eating at her desk, she never ate in the break room, and she'd self-consciously told him tuna casserole. She'd been surprised when he'd told her tuna casserole was his favorite – and it was too. So good! And so thoughtful of her to remember and actually make it for him and cupcakes too – totally delicious and one of the best birthday gifts he'd ever gotten! He remembered the apple pie she'd made for another office party last year too, so addictive that he'd tried to get a second piece and she'd saved him a piece. Oh, and the green beans with onions, that corn bread for their Thanksgiving party! His mouth watered as he thought of that cornbread with a hint of sweetness, the too good to be true apple pie and that buttery cinnamon supper cake she'd made over a year ago that people still talked about!

He shook his head appreciatively. She could cook and she was beautiful too? What more could you ask for almost? She was reliable, and sweet, good, pleasant company, not too talkative at all and she always smelled good. He didn't mind that she was taller than him though he was sure she did. That was partly why he was so afraid of approaching her. The other reason was that he was white. How did you go about asking someone from a different race out? He didn't care but she might so how to soften her up to the idea? He guessed she liked Cary Grant so maybe she wouldn't say no. But then he wasn't anything like Cary Grant. Ultimately, he was a coward and he knew it. Fear kept him from acting.

He was desperate to ask her out for New Year's Eve; even bought tickets to a place he'd remembered her mentioning. If only she could see him and not just the color of his skin or his height. But Ororo didn't or couldn't and he didn't know how to make her. He didn't know how to get past his fear, her fear. He didn't know it but they both longed to experience true love. He was too afraid of blotching it and she was lost in daydreams and fantasies and uncertainties.

He watched her from the window in his cubicle as she came into sight, walking to her little Toyota, walking fast. Why was finding love so hard? All he had to do was just ask her out! Maybe all of five seconds if that. Ororo, let's go out New Year's Eve, have some fun. Ororo, I'd like to buy you dinner. Ororo, wanna go get some coffee? It wasn't anything more than that, right? He'd tried to fool himself sometimes, that it was that easy, but he knew she'd say no because he was white and she was black. That's what he'd really been worrying about all these months. Maybe someone had given her that Cary Grant paper weight for one of their annual secret Santa's and she was too polite to toss it.

"Aren't you going home, Logan?" his boss, Charles asked as he strode by, briefcase in hand and a surprised look on his face when he saw Logan was still there.

Logan frowned. What business was it of his if he stayed a few minutes after quitting time? Half the staff stayed late.

"You never stay late," Charles commented, as if reading his mind.

Logan chuckled. "Ya got me there, Charlie." No, he never stayed late because he always tried to leave when Ororo left. He got in super early then caught up on work while waiting for Ororo to come in so he could make small talk with her since she usually got in early too. She actually dictated how he spent his time at work!

"Hmm, pity, looks like Ororo's car won't start," Charles observed after he'd looked out the window to see what Logan had been looking at. He watched Logan who had started briefly as if found out. But then Logan quickly turned back to the window and almost in the same instant he was darting towards the exit.

"Hey, where're you going?" Charles yelled but Logan was already yanking the door open, all else forgotten, including his backpack and Stetson on his desk.

"I wonder," Charles murmured thoughtfully to himself and smiled as he headed to the elevator. He'd parked in the front parking lot but he was tempted to drive around to the back lot where Ororo was just to see if his hunch about Logan and Ororo was right.

"Hello, Charles."

"Hmm? Oh, hello, Emma."

"You look like something's on your mind,"

"Why yes, it is. Tell me, what do you think? I admire Logan despite himself and I admire Ororo too. I feel they're two of the best workers we have, they complement each other."

"Uh . . . erm . . . yes, I suppose you've a point," the bleached blonde said, thinking of how cocky and snobby didn't really seem to complement each other at all.

"I'm glad to see you agree. Well, then I think the supervisory position has narrowed down to the two of them as you can see. I hope you consider applying for our next opening. Are you going down?"

Emma swallowed and tried to smile as the elevator door slid open. She couldn't manage it though. She automatically nodded for she had been planning to go down but then she quickly shook her head and walked away, furious with his abrupt decision. Surely that wasn't how you told someone they were out of the running!

"Goodnight, Emma!" Charles called after her. He felt superbly good. Emma needed to be taken down a notch or two, he thought. Besides, he was the manager and he could do as he chose. Yes, he felt extremely good!

Outside in the back parking lot Ororo didn't know her chances of getting the promotion that she didn't really want had improved significantly. She was sitting in her car, dead cell phone in one hand, shoulders slumped, and almost ready to cry.

"Won't start for ya, darlin'?" Logan asked, just a little out of breath, as he walked up to her. He'd stopped running once he'd reached the parking lot so he wouldn't look too obviously desperate.

"Oh, Logan!" Ororo cried and accidentally dropped her useless phone.

He saw the worry on her face turn into sudden joy and his chest rose with pride and hope. She saw his concern and then his usual confidence flare up, and just like that each felt their previous anxiety suddenly vanishing as they looked at each other. She smiled and to him it was like sunshine warming his soul. Everyone knew he worked on cars and motorcycles as a hobby so he knew that she knew he could help her. He had a reason to be there, with her after work, alone together! She felt a rush of unexpected feelings as he opened her door and bade her get out.

"I was going to call Triple A. I have Triple A," she murmured, silently counting how many times she'd called them this year. "Well, maybe I don't," she added even more quietly as she climbed out, remembering the two calls for locking her keys in the car, a tire change and a jump start which had been the day before.

Logan got inside her car and turned the key in the ignition. It turned over but sounded like it was protesting. His face was grim, his concentration unbroken. Ororo watched him and wasn't aware that she was still smiling. She thought of how little she'd responded to his efforts to be friendly and she suddenly wished she hadn't been so short with him.

He got out of the car, peered under the hood. Less than a minute later he told her, "You need a new battery probably but I can jump it, not a problem, get ya home, just gotta clean the acid off I think. I got tools an' cables in my truck. I'll be back in a minute."

He heard her sigh and he looked up from under the hood and at the sight of her forlorn face his heart felt as if it had been snagged, caught by this vulnerable yet so very independent woman. And then she smiled gratefully and he suddenly knew he wanted to always take care of her, that this was the woman he would marry.

"But it might not start in the morning," he said, looking at her intently, trying not to smile as he decided that this was it, this was his moment. Do or die.

"I have . . ."

"Yeah, triple A," he noted sourly.

"I just have to pay for the tow, that's all – I . . . um . . . I used all my service calls. I think."

He thought he saw a look of worry on her face but it was quickly replaced with her usual serene look, the look he was now pretty certain was forced, just a cover up for her true feelings which she refused to let anyone see.

"Look, Ro, how 'bout I take you home. I can pick you up in the morning too, take you to work. I'll get you a battery after I drop you off. Uh . . . why don't we get something to eat first? And we can fix your car after dinner, get the battery then. I'm pretty sure it's not the alternator," he rattled off then almost held his breath as he waited for her to turn him down.

Ororo looked at him almost as if she suspected he was a serial killer wanted in ten states and then she laughed and bit her bottom lip lightly. He didn't know she was thinking of that last book she'd read about serial killer's horrible, loveless childhoods, seeing herself as twisted and bitter and lost and desperate, but also seeing him as a movie star or a paperback romance hero coming to the rescue of his lady love!

"Well . . ."

"I don't mind," he said. "I mean I wanna help you."

"I'd like that," she said, smiling."

She said okay, she said okay, he thought ecstatically and then went for broke, "Okay, great! That'll work. We can get something ta eat an' I'll fix your car good as new. That's what cubicle buddies are for, right? An' . . . um . . . like taking someone out for New Year's Eve too, eh?"

She laughed again.

"Uh . . . uh . . ." he faltered but quickly rallied, determined not to lose his momentum. "We should do something for New Years. I mean neither of us are seeing anyone, right?" he asked, his eagerness clear in his voice and on his earnest face.

"That's, uh, awfully nice of you," she said as she looked at him, not sure what to make of his sudden proposition.

"Yeah? Right. Well, um . . . I mean is that a yes or a no?" He said and swallowed self-consciously.

She studied him a moment and the silence seemed to engulf them, almost as if they were drowning in it. And then she nodded once then twice. "Where would you like to go?"

His look of surprise made her relax just as her serene smile made him relax. He really was a sweet guy, a little awkward with her sometimes but she really liked him a lot, despite herself. And despite herself she always seemed to lean into this man, as if his very essence was drawing her closer and closer no matter what she'd told Jean. She'd felt this way for months now but today, standing in the emptying parking lot together, it somehow felt right.

"Where would we go for New Year's Eve?" she repeated.

"That place you were talking about a few months ago! I already got tickets. I'll make a reservation for Valentine's Day too. In fact, it's where we're have our anniversary at every year," he said confidently, grinning at her open mouth look of shock.

But she soon found herself nodding slowly. "O-okay," she said, her surprise having turned into something she couldn't quite explain – contentment possibly? And she laughed at a sudden wayward thought. What would it be like being married to this considerate, sweet, handsome man, spending Christmas with him? And New Year's Eve? Valentine's Day? Anniversaries? She couldn't stop grinning as he took her hand in his and they started walking to his truck.

"We'll have fun – dinner, New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day – it'll be a great year for us, darlin'," he said, holding her hand tight.

And she smiled and said, "You know, Logan, I think you're right, it's going to be a better than great year for us."

 **~Finis~**

 **A/N –** I wrote this in November 2008 and just never posted it. When I found it again recently I added a better ending rather than the hopeless one I'd originally intended, just leaving it at 'daydreams and fantasies and uncertainties', added another three pages to make it work. I hope you enjoyed it. Btw, I'm looking for **ASCW** to go over and update if anyone's interested. I'm moving again but have an idea where it's stashed. I really want to finish it now.


End file.
